


As Long As You're Mine

by Dirty_Corza



Series: No Good Deed [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Grief/Mourning, John Watson Has a Daughter, Mary's Funeral
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-12
Updated: 2012-07-12
Packaged: 2017-11-09 19:50:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/457735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dirty_Corza/pseuds/Dirty_Corza
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five years after John's wedding, after Sherlock leaves, Mary's dead, and John a grieving widower with a darling little girl named Hubert Marie Watson.</p><p>What happens when a lost friend returns?</p>
            </blockquote>





	As Long As You're Mine

John held Hubert close to his chest as he stared up the stairs that led to 221B. His daughter was barely more than a year old, and still it felt strange to think his best friend wasn't just upstairs from his own flat. 221C had cleaned up nicely, and Mary loved it there. Durring the pregnancy, Mrs. Hudson had been a godsend, bringing biscuits and tea down to his wife while he was at work, keeping her company. Mary had even started calling her Grandmama Hudson when she talked to their little Hubert Marie.

Never once had she scolded him for wanting to live where he'd be so cose to that other flat, the one long since sitting empty, for five years now. She'd known what he needed, the knowledge that he'd know immediately if Sherlock went up those seventeen stairs.

He hadn't come, though. In those five years of wedded bliss, Sherlock never even stopped John in the street to say hello. It hurt, but John had felt enough pain in recent months, it was really no more than another ache in his heart. Turning away from the stairs leading to an empty flat, he pressed a kiss to Hubert's hair as he headed down into their own home.

It seemed empty these days, had for months. Ever since Mary went in to the hospital for treatment, ever since something in the procedure had gone wrong and she'd had to stay. And now she wasn't coming back. But he couldn't focus on that. He was a father, with a beautiful little girl, and he had to be strong, as he always had been. He was a soldier, and he'd gone through grief before. Even if there'd be no Mary to hold him together this time, he had Hubert, and he could hold himself together for her sake. He wouldn't let himself fall apart while he still had a child to look after.

"How about some dinner, dovey? Grandmama Hudson said there was something in the fridge for the both of us, doesn't that sound just lovely? She's always a better cook than your father. He's really only good at making tea, and you're not old enough for that yet." He gave her belly a tickle, smiling with tears in his eyes as she giggled, burying her face against his sweater. He'd never wanted to be a single father, but he could do it, for her.

\- - - 

John waited nearly a month before hosting a "Celebration of Life" party for Mary. Mrs. Hudson had convinced him to do it in empty 221B, which was just big enough for their close friends and family. He and Hubert spent the week before decorating, putting up pictures and streamers, transforming empty walls into a canvas, full of color and smiles. Full of remembering Mary's life.

Hubert's contributions were small, what with her being barely old enough to toddle, but she picked out the colors, and Mrs. Hudson helped her do painted handprints on the wall. It warmed John's heart to see his daughter so happy, reminded him why they were doing this instead of some morbid funeral service. All he had to do was see her smiling face, and he was reminded that now he was a father first, and a husband second.

The day of the party came, and the flats, all three of them, were filled with the smell of Mrs. Hudson baking biscuits. Hubert was as excited as she was for birthdays, and John could hardly blame her as the first guests arrived. They were family, and aunts, uncles and grandparents all brought a little something for the girl who lost her mother. For John, they brought hugs and teary eyed smiles, including a Clara who had managed to bring a sober Harry Watson.

Then the friends started trickling in, people from both of their work places, the few other couples they had gotten connected with, and even those he still kept in touch with from Scotland Yard. As he made his rounds through the rooms full of people, though, he couldn't help but look for one familiar face, tall and pale with a shock of dark hair. He wanted to smack himself for it, but he hoped that one person would show up.

There was no sign of him. No sign at all. John did recieve a surprise, though. Mycroft Holmes made an appearance, with an envelope he hand delivered before making his excuses and leaving. The envelope had included a short note of condolences, and a few thousand punds, cash "To put away for the child's education."

John had to laugh at that, the fact that Mycroft, like everyone else here, seemed to know any checks would be "lost" or "misplaced" and never get cashed. They all knew him well enough to give cash, and to make it out to be for his daughter in some respect. He couldn't just donate money that was meant for her. If their friends and family gave enough money she'd be able to live off of it for years, he wasn't about to stop them. 

The night wore on, friends and family leaving, until the place was empty other than the current residents of 221. Mrs. Hudson was cleaning up in the kitchen, chatting with John who was sitting on his old chair, craddling a sleeping Hubert while they reminisced. 

"Do you remember the day she met Sherlock? That was when I knew I had to marry her. After he did his whole analyze-your-life thing, she laughed, and said it was brilliant, just like I said it was. The look on his face, god, that was priceless, seeing him process the fact she'd not been offended, even though he'd been quite crass about it."

"Oh, yes, dear. That's how I knew she'd be good for you, even with him around. More's the pity he hadn't stayed around long enough to get to know her. Such a silly boy, running away just because there was a lady friend for his friend. I really don't think he understand how-"

She was interrupted by a knock on the door, and the appearance of a tall figure lightly pushing open the door.

John saw him first, and instantly recgnized the pale visage. "Sherlock." he breathed, suddenly hit with so many emotions he wasn't sure if he wanted to laugh, cry, or punch him in the face. He settled for the first, knowing it would be least likely to wake up the child in his arms.

"Oh, Sherlock!" Mrs. Hudson exclaimed as he exited the kitchen, drying off her hands, "What a suprise, seeing you around here. Though it shouldn't have been. Of course you'd come today, to see John. There are still some leftover goodies, do help yourself. And John, dear, I'll just take Hubert down and put her to bed. You two can stay here and chat for a while." She gave them both warm smiles before scooping the child into her arms and brushing past Sherlock as she headed downstairs.

Sherlock stayed silent, and John could almost see the nerves floating off of him. "I'll just make us some tea, then?" he said as he stood, motioning Sherlock to follow into the kitchen. He set up the tea things for two automatically, glad that unlike the past few months at home, there would be a second body drinking tea this time. "Been over five years, Sherlock. I was about to go on a man hunt, baby and all." His voice was strained, and as he looked up, he saw Sherlock flinch away from his eyes. They were probably filled with a combination of anguish and anger, though he couldn't tell for sure. His emotions were in such turmoil, he wasn't sure which weighed most heavily on his mind.

"You- you named her Hubert." Sherlock's voice nearly cracked as he sat down, staring at the table and half a dozen plates of various party foods still spread out on top of it.

He sounded so surprised, so in shock, John couldn't help but to laugh. "We did. Hubert Marie Watson. Mary understood, when I asked her if we could name our first Hubert, after you, boy or girl. She understood, and she let me. You must have gone quite the distance not to have known. There was an announcement in the paper."

"I hadn't thought, well, I had expected you not to, when I'd heard you were having a child. I was gone longer than expected, hunting down serial killers in America. There was a branch from Moriarty's group there. That's what I left for."

"Oh, so it was a legitimate reason? Something you could have bloody told me, and we could've stayed in touch? And long-term enough delaying a day to stay for your best friend's wedding wouldn't have hurt? Or coming back for a few days a year, maybe around the holidays, to drop in and say hi?" His anger was showing now, but he held it carefully in check. Sherlock had hur him, true, but this was Sherlock, who never bloody thought about the consequences of his actions.

"I-I should have stayed, or visited, or- or something. I know I should have, but you and Mary, you were so happy with her, and all I've ever done is hurt relationships. I just, I couldn't stay and hurt you two. She made you happy, John, I wanted you to spend your time happy, with her. Not worrying about me, wishing to join me on my new adventures."

John was happy to have tea to prepare after that confession by Sherlock. It was so well meaning, for Sherlock, and yet so completely and utterly stupid. Just hearing the stupidly well-meaning reasons made John want to throw something. To think his best friend had left him feeling forgotten for such silly, pointless things as that. To think John had had to go through all this with no one who's laugh at his morbid jokes other than Mary, who made just as many as he did, always making him laugh. Sherlock hadd abandoned him during that for no better reason than because he'd thought it would hurt John less?

"You are a bloody idiot. You were my best friend, Sherlock, as it wasn't like I'd ever have expected you to love her like I did. I've seen you around enough of my girlfriends, I remember my engagement. If you would have been able to hurt what we had, it would have been done then. But you didn't. And Sherlock, I'd hazard a guess as to say that's the real reason you left. Why you came back now, after it's all over. Because you've never been ableto share me. And I bet you didn't even know about Hubert, or else you wouldn't have shown up knowing I have other responsibilities than an old flatmate who can't deal with his own emotions.Thankfully, though, whoever it was you were getting your info on me from didn't tell you that bit. And so you're here, and no matter how angry I might want to be, over all that, I'm grateful to see you.

You might be a bloody idiot, but you're my best friend and I've missed you. No one else could do what you've done for me, and you'll always be someone special to me." John took a long drink from his tea, blinking away tears that threatened to fall. "The idea that you were both gone from my side, I never want to go through that again. So you'll be moving in, correct? I can held fix the place up for you again. I've got another month or so before I'll have to go back to work." He looked expectantly at Sherlock over the edge of his mug.

Sherlock studdied him for a moment before sipping at his own drink and giving a small nod. "I'll be moving in. For you, John. I don't know what elser I'll be doing, but for now I shall live here. Until..." His voice trailed off at he stared into his tea. John leaned foreward, concern on his face.

"Until what, Sherlock?"

"Until I retire. I've been thinking about it, you know. I could move to the country, some nice, quiet peice of land. Mycroft has been looking for a place for me. He said he found a place big enough for three. I didn't understand why until- well."

John was speachless for a moment, sipping his tea as Sherlock sipped his own, both almost afraid to break the silence. 

"That sounds like a good place to retire to. But what would you do out in the country?" John was the one to break it, a teasing look in his eye. "Not like there are a slew of serial killers out there, they seem to all prefer city life."

That brought a real chuckle from Sherlock, and for the first time that night, he relaxed. "I was actually thinking of raising bees. They make far more sense than people, anyways. Even I tire of serial killers at times."

They both laughed, the heavey atmosphere lifting as they began to tell stories of the past five years. They talked late into the night, sharing the good parts about their time apart. John, not mentioning details of Mary's illness, Sherlock not voicing how lonely it had been being so far from John. Eventually, they ran out of room skirting around the subjects that mattered most, the important details, and they had to part ways.

"Goodnight Sherlock. I need to be going, Hubert will be up bright and early, and she gets nervous when I'm not there. But I promise to be up in the afternoon, the both of us. She'd love to help clean the place up." John gave sherlock a friendly nod as he put his cup in the sink and headed to the door. "And Sherlock, it really is good to see you again."


End file.
